


Touch Me, I'm Going to Scream

by lipeviez



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Romance, fleur is frustratedly thirsty, fleur would rather hermione rub it in, light humor, their friends rub it in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27076195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipeviez/pseuds/lipeviez
Summary: After five long weeks apart, Fleur is eager for her wife Hermione’s return. When the day arrives, her patience is tested by delays, a long-planned birthday party for one of their friends, and a seemingly oblivious wife.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 19
Kudos: 306





	Touch Me, I'm Going to Scream

**Author's Note:**

> title is from the song(s) by My Morning Jacket

Fleur Delacour prided herself on many things. She prided herself on her good manners, a decent sense of humor, and above all, she prided herself on her even temperament. Even in the face of rudeness, or a dangerous situation as the case may be, she could remain calm and collected. It’s what helped her in her job as a curse-breaker. Nothing could ruffle her.

But right now, surrounded by her wife and their friends in a crowded pub late on a Friday night, her humor had flatlined, her manners did a runner, and her temperament had jagged edges so sharp she was afraid she would exsanguinate anyone who came at her wrong.

In short, Fleur was in a bad mood.

And to thank for it were the five weeks she’d gone without seeing her wife, without feeling her skin, without waking to honey brown eyes gazing at her. Fleur grumbled as she nursed her wine, which was still her first drink of the night. She watched Hermione laugh and drink her second beer, those pink lips looking so wet and soft. Tearing her eyes away, she stared daggers at anyone that kept her wife’s attention there at the pub instead of on her and on thoughts of rushing away to their flat to take care of more important matters.

_::_

_Earlier_

Fleur woke up to her alarm and quickly silenced it, feeling ecstatic. She’d been looking forward to this day for weeks.

Her wife, Hermione Granger, was finally coming home. The bookworm had decided to take a course on indigenous runes in Brazil. And given the choice between a sixteen-week course over the winter and spring, which allowed for two holidays to return to England, or an impacted four-week course in early summer which did not allow for any visits home or international floo connectivity, they decided the four-week course would be best just to get it over with. With adjustments to time differences, administrative errands to take care of, and an exam at the end of the course, it would mean five weeks apart.

Those five weeks had dragged so slowly, and no hobby or activity with friends was able to console her over Hermione’s absence. There had been owls and phone calls of course but that type of communication had not been enough. Not to a Veela who craved sexual intimacy as often as Fleur did. Not being able to see her wife, or to touch and kiss her, or to make love to her whenever they felt like it, it had been torture.

But today she would return. Fleur’s skin was buzzing in anticipation as she quickly showered and dressed, triple-checking yet again that their flat was immaculate, all of their favorite toys were freshly cleaned and within reach of the bed, and the kitchen contained all of Hermione’s favorite snacks and pick-me-up beverages for the marathon session they were sure to have as soon as the bookworm arrived. While these thoughts made her smile, Fleur frowned at the knowledge that they would need to cut it short due to Harry’s birthday celebration at nine that night. Ginny and Ron would be there and also Neville and his wife Hannah. Hermione really wanted to go. So, Fleur’s plan was for them to attend for a while and then hurry home to resume their reacquaintance with each other’s bodies.

The travel by port key was scheduled for eight in the morning and Fleur arrived at the Ministry on time to meet her, wearing a lavender summer dress she knew Hermione would like. Nothing could dim her good mood, not even the half-hour delay that worried the few others waiting for their loved ones traveling on the same port key.

When that half-hour delay turned into two hours, and a nervous official explained to those waiting there had been a mix-up, Fleur scowled. They were told to come back at noon, which Fleur did. And then to come back at two and then four in the afternoon, by which time Fleur had changed out of her dress and into a pair of black jeans and a white linen button-down shirt, doing her best not to snap whenever the official would come to the waiting area with an apologetic look on her face.

Fleur would trudge back to the Ministry, shake off those prior annoyances and paste on a smile, keen to see her lover’s face, redoing the calculations in her head about how much time they would have at their flat before having to head to the pub for the party, only to be further disappointed by yet another delay.

If the travel time had originally been scheduled for late evening, Fleur wouldn’t have been so upset. She would have mentally prepared herself for not being able to bed her wife until after the birthday get-together. But now it felt like every nerve had been rubbed raw and not in a good way.

At nine o’clock that night, a harried Hermione finally arrived, looking gorgeously tanned, wearing blue jeans and a pink v-neck t-shirt. The Veela ignored the sounds of reunion that were happening around them and strode forward to tightly hug her wife, whisper words of love in her ear, and then kiss her hungrily. She hoped Hermione would give up on the party. She didn’t want to share her tonight.

“Fleur, I know,” whispered Hermione, giving Fleur one more kiss before pulling out of Fleur’s arms. “We’ll still have time after. But we’re late for the party.”

She nodded and forced a smile. Just a few more hours. She could do this.

_::_

_Now_

Fleur finished her wine and watched Hermione start her third beer, which also happened to be her fourth drink in total given that she started off with a shot of firewhisky as soon as they arrived at the pub. It was now eleven o’clock. Throughout the night Fleur had tried subtle hints but subtlety couldn’t compete with the noise of the pub, the fun that Ginny and Ron always brought to a party with their sibling banter, and a very inebriated Harry who kept asking Hermione questions about Brazil. If she wasn’t so distracted by her need to be alone with the brunette, she would’ve found the scene endearing. Her wife was already a talkative woman but after a few drinks, she was downright chatty and easily lost track of time.

The blonde escalated to suggestive remarks and discreet touches on Hermione’s leg, moving her hand higher and raising an eyebrow seductively. She toyed with the idea of pulling Hermione into the restroom for a quickie but they’d only recently been unbanned from this pub after getting caught doing that very thing six months ago. A truly unfair punishment, in Fleur’s opinion. But tonight was also Harry’s birthday which meant a modicum of decency was necessary to ensure no public mishaps. The best she could hope for was an early night. Unfortunately, the blushes and flushed looks that her touches earned were not enough to urge Hermione to suggest they leave. The only thing those efforts did was increase her frustrated arousal.

Exasperated, she gave up trying to put the moves on her tipsy wife. Fleur was beginning to feel very neglected. Didn’t Hermione want her anymore?

“Are you all right, Fleur?” Hermione said into her ear, having leaned close to her wife.

“Of course. I’m having fun, are you having fun?” Fleur rambled, her eyes caught suddenly by how low the v-neck actually was on her wife’s t-shirt. The hot breath in her ear sent a throb to her center and she was practically panting.

“Yes! It just feels good to be back,” the bookworm answered loudly with a laugh. Then, almost as if it were an afterthought, she whispered in Fleur’s ear, “Don’t worry, we’ll still have time tonight.”

The Veela hummed, slightly appeased that her wife at least recognized her need but her annoyance returned as Hermione turned back to continue her conversation with Harry. He was the man of the hour, though, so she did her best not to blame him, reserving her ire for everyone else.

Fleur did the math again, noting that if her wife slowly finished that third beer, Hermione would still be in the functioning range of tipsy that wouldn’t interfere with consenting to rip each other’s clothes off. But if Hermione had one more drink, that would be the end of Fleur’s romantic plans.

She began to wave off the tray of shots that got near her wife, making sure Hermione took sips of her water in between sips of beer, and glaring at anyone who noticed that Hermione’s beer was approaching empty. At one point she even grabbed a shot out of Hermione’s hand and couldn’t help the huff at the brunette’s cute pout and knowing glare. _Five weeks, Hermione_ , Fleur’s mind and body whined silently.

“What’s the matter, Fleur?” needled Ginny softly with a grin from the chair next to hers. “Got an itch that needs scratching… or licking? It’s been a long time since you’ve seen your wife, hasn’t it? I don’t know what I would do if I had to go _that long_ without Harry.”

To drive the point home, Ginny got out of her chair, walked around Fleur and Hermione, and pulled Harry into a wet kiss before going to the bar, a kiss which left him dazed and Fleur more wound up than ever. Taking it as a cue, Hannah pulled Neville into a long smooch. Fleur’s jaw dropped at the sight. Neville and Hannah never kissed like that in public. This really was too much. Not only was she not getting any from her wife, she had to put up with such displays from couples who had had no reason to abstain from physical contact over the last five weeks as she had. She was mid-growl in her angry contemplation when Ron slid into Ginny’s empty chair.

“Hey, Fleur,” slurred Ron. “How did you even manage going five weeks? If I had a wife like Hermione – “

“If you know what’s good for you, you will not finish that sentence, Ronald Weasley,” warned Fleur in a low, rage-filled voice so that only he could hear, her jealousy a violent wrench in her gut that had her hand itching to slap that smile off his face. This was highly uncharacteristic of her. Under normal circumstances, reminders that he’d once pursued Hermione would have only been an irritation and she would have easily redirected Ron’s attention without betraying her feelings on the matter. 

She must have looked very threatening because he promptly shut his mouth, eyes nearly popping out of his head, and he smartly decided to go back to his chair to bother Neville and Hannah.

As satisfying as putting Ron in his place was, it only put her even more on edge. Ready to lash out at any moment, Fleur’s stomach roiled at Ginny’s demand that they all have another birthday shot. She sent Ginny her most evil look but got a wink in return as the redhead walked towards them holding the tray. Fleur glared at the shot glasses, each one of them a block to her getting into Hermione’s pants. Just the thought of slipping her hand beneath Hermione’s waistband had her squeezing her thighs together. She gripped the edge of the table as Ginny put the tray down, tensed, her heart racing. How she hated each one of those selfish little glasses and their contents. How dare they interfere with her sex life. She wondered what the others would say if she threw her arm out and wiped them off the table. It would serve them right.

Just as Hermione reached for one, Fleur slammed her hand on the table and shouted.

“Non!”

Everyone at their table stopped talking and stared at the panting Veela. Ron looked clueless, Harry wobbled, Neville and Hannah whispered in each other’s ears, and Ginny was doing all she could to keep from laughing. The Veela’s eyes widened when Ginny quickly flashed a hand gesture signaling exactly what the blonde wanted to do to her wife.

Fleur was literally shaking and she wasn’t sure if it was fury that was causing it or the images in her mind of being in between Hermione’s legs.

She bit her lip and looked imploringly at her wife, willing her to understand that she just couldn’t take it anymore. She was going to scream if they didn’t leave soon.

Hermione broke the silence with giggles that turned into fond laughter as she wrapped her arms around Fleur.

“I think that means I’ll be having a takeaway coffee,” Hermione announced to their friends, quickly going around and hugging everyone goodbye. Then she grabbed Fleur’s hand and dragged her to the bar to order her coffee. Once the brunette had her coffee in hand, she raised it and yelled another goodbye to everyone and got cheers in return.

Fleur followed her obediently to the exit, looking smugly dignified. She ignored all the hoots and hollers of how Hermione was going to give it to her good, not embarrassed in the slightest.

To prove that it didn’t bother her at all, she turned her face towards their friends and flashed the same gesture for eating out a woman that Ginny had teased her with, pleased with the resulting shocked faces and laughter.

“Fleur,” scolded Hermione once they got outside. She took a few sips of her coffee, her brown eyes glowing with humor.

“Hmmm?” asked Fleur innocently, wrapping her arms around her wife and nuzzling her nose into her hair, breathing in her scent as if it was the very air she needed to survive.

“I doubt your mother would be happy with how we’ve corrupted you into using such crude gestures.”

“You say that as if we’re not going home to do just that. Am I not going to suck and lick you until you scream my name? And aren’t you going to return the favor?” Fleur licked along her neck to remind her just what she could do with her tongue.

Hermione laughed breathlessly, the flush growing on her face. “Get us home now before I demand such a favor right here on the street.”

Without another word, Fleur embraced her possessively and they apparated home.

Contrary to the impatience she’d shown throughout the day and evening, Fleur took her time in each vigorous round which also doubled as arguments for never again taking a class in another part of the world without her. And much to the Veela’s satisfaction and relief, her wife enthusiastically agreed with every point made.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
